Away From the Sun
by NotOneLineFF
Summary: He barely felt it, when Hell started to die. (Season 4 spoilers.)


_'Cause now again I found myself so far down._

_Away from the sun, that shines into the darkest place._

_I'm so far down, away from the sun, t__hat shines to light the way for me._

_To find my way back into the arms, t__hat care about the ones like me._

_I'm so far down, away from the sun again._

...

He barely felt it, when Hell started to die.

There was nothing _to_ feel, at first. The landscape of this endless labyrinth was forever altering. Shifting and twisting, becoming whatever it needed to be in order to contain the swarms of humanity that condemned themselves there. It adapted, and it thrived, spreading out further than the eye could see, even from the throne that towered over it all.

Then one day, it just… stopped.

Not even the demons noticed at first. But then the souls started roaming the halls. The initial flood were thought to be escapees. Something that had never happened before, but what did they care? The thrill of the chase was intoxicating.

Until they realised there were no longer any cells for their captives.

Hell wasn't growing anymore.

Adjustments were made. They had to be. As their king, he commanded them to build, and so they did. Cells upon cells, stacked high into that sky without stars. Eventually, he ordered the creation of more demons too, their brethren unable to keep up with the rate of the arrivals.

Or with the punishments.

For the new additions failed to generate loops, and as time went on, the old loops faded away. More so than ever, the land over which he ruled became a cacophony of screams.

It was unbearable.

And so he left.

It was inevitable really. Somehow, as unbelievable as it sounded, she loved him. And of course, the moment the other meaning of the prophecy was revealed, he'd known it was about her. He loved her in return. He always had. It had just taken him far too long to realise it.

His first journey to Earth after his return was just for a few seconds. It reminded him of the beginning, when he'd visit in secret, just to test the waters, so to speak. Would his siblings notice? Would his subjects?

They didn't. They didn't then, and they didn't now.

He had to see her though. He had to know she was okay.

She wasn't.

Every heartache he felt he saw reflected in her, as he watched her silently through the window, her child curled into her side. Both of them sat facing the television, the title menu of some long finished movie playing on repeat.

But she didn't see. She wasn't there, not really.

Instead, she sat, playing with the pendant of her necklace over and over again as she stared into nothing. The necklace he gave her. When she started to cry, he left. If he'd stayed a moment longer he would have gone to her. And that would have ripped them both in two.

He'd been naive though, to think he couldn't be more broken than he already was. Seeing her again… it shattered him. When he returned, he threw himself into his duties, more so than ever. Anything to distract himself, anything to keep him from thinking about how wrong this was, how he shouldn't even _be_ here.

How he should be with her.

But it didn't work. His time on Earth, it had changed him. He was no longer a monster, not completely, but not quite an angel, either. A coin with two sides, forever rotating. He couldn't bring himself to pretend to enjoy the infliction of pain, to relish it, not as a torturer should. Not in the way that was befitting to his station.

There was no other option though. The demons must be controlled, must be _contained_. For that, they needed a king. A king who could do his job.

So he did.

With every cry of terror, a little bit more of his soul chipped away.

And in the farthest reaches of Hell, the ice began to form.

At first, it started slowly. It crept along the walls, infecting every crevice and crack until the stone itself started to shine. Eventually, it coated the floors, providing the only entertainment he'd had since he returned, as he watched the creatures of the night try to navigate a ground that had suddenly decided to betray them.

When it reached the cells, it sealed the doors shut. Solid ice lined the frame, thick and unbreakable, spreading to the point where the entrance disappeared completely. The edges of the inferno turned white, and he paid it no mind.

Hell was changing, so what? Hell changed all the time. At least it was something different, something _interesting. _The why didn't concern him, but the bite upon his fingers as he traced the walls during his explorations of those areas was welcome. Even after the heat of LA, down here the air had been stifling.

The novelty of heading north of the wall, as he called it, soon wore off, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much about that. About any of it, really. The souls remained in their cells, and the demons weren't on Earth. That was all that mattered. And if the rate they could build Hell into the skies slowed down because of the chill, then so be it.

It was never ending. There were always more creatures, lurking in the shadows, waiting to be born. Always more sin to be punished. Always more torture, always more pain.

Hell was eternal, and even the coming winter couldn't change that.

Or so he thought.

It started out as an ache within his bones. Subtle, but always there, winding itself into his ribs, forming a cage around his heart. It spread into his wings, made it difficult to fly. Which was even more of a pain than it sounded, considering his throne was basically Rapunzel's tower without the princess at the top.

The lethargy followed soon after. He spent more time locked away in his chambers than he did in court these days, only making an appearance when he was really needed. Mainly, to reassure his subjects that he hadn't run off to Earth again. As things stood though, he wasn't even sure he could.

He didn't think he could face seeing her. Not now.

Not when he missed her so much that he woke up with his face wet in the middle of the night after seeing her in his dreams. Not when he missed her so much that if he so much as breathed the same air as her that he thought it might kill him to leave her side.

Not when he missed her so much that it hurt to breathe.

Which was the point at which he realised that it _literally _hurt to breathe.

He closed his eyes as he struggled to get air, concentrating on the in and out of his breaths, blocking out the noise and the chaos and infinite misery that surrounded him. And that was when he finally felt it.

The edges of Hell were crumbling, cascading inwards like an ever encroaching tide.

Hell was a part of him, it always had been, right from the moment he plummeted into the unforgiving ground. Guilt fed the abyss, and his guilt had been a bottomless lake of fire and despair. It shaped and moulded, destroyed and created. For him, it fabricated a home of no light, no music, no joy. An endless monotony of pain, both for himself and those he was forced to inflict it on.

That's why he'd been surprised to find he had a door here, on reflection.

Hell had always been a loop for him.

The souls stopped arriving. They were lost now, neither in Hell nor Heaven. Hell had no vacancies, not anymore. Naturally, his siblings had started to arrive then, begging him to do something, _anything_.

"_What can I do?"_ he'd screamed at them._ "What more do you want from me? I've given you all that I have! Do you know what I've sacrificed for you, for humanity?"_

Of course they didn't. Or if they did, they didn't care.

From his throne, he looked over a kingdom of white now. It was the closest thing to beautiful this place had ever been. Had he been well, he would have been tempted to start referring to himself as the snow king. But he had no energy for jokes now, and besides, he'd always hated bloody Turkish delight anyway.

So instead he sat, and he watched, as the ash turned to snow that rained down over everything. And when the ice started to climb the spire to his throne, reaching for his ailing body, he knew it was time.

Hell was dying, right alongside him. The cells were completely gone now, inaccessible even to the strongest among them, himself included. Not that any of them were that strong, not now. The demonic population fell by the day, as his subjects gave in and succumbed to the cold. They were creatures designed for the heat, formed in flame and fueled by it. The fires of Hell had proved no match for the ice inside his heart.

And so while he still could, he flew, one last time, to see her.

One last time where he saw her face, saw her laughing as her spawn blew out the candles on the cake in front of her, banners and balloons everywhere proudly displaying the number eleven. He'd been gone for over a year.

For him, it had been longer.

So much longer.

It was only when the child looked away that he saw her mother's eyes fall flat. Daniel slipped an arm around her shoulder, and she turned, burying her face into his chest.

He heard her whisper, and it only served to drive the dagger of ice within him in further.

"_He should be here."_

He couldn't help it; his breath hitched, and she turned as though she'd heard him. Slowly, she slipped out of Daniel's embrace, quietly heading out of the patio doors into the garden.

"Lucifer?" she whispered. _"Lucifer, please."_

He wondered if she knew what the sudden wind was that swept through her hair was as he left.

Crash landing in Hell was no fun, he'd learned that the first time. As he was about to find out, the second time wasn't much better. In his despair, he misjudged the distance, clipping his throne instead of landing there, sending him, and it, smashing to the ground.

When he came to, he hadn't the means to get up again, his body bruised and broken. As he lay there, the demons gathered closer, drawn by the noise and gasping breaths of the former King of Hell. For he was the former now. Weakness was not tolerated here, and he had never felt so weak. He thought of her face as he waited for the final blow.

"You need to leave."

That… wasn't what he expected. He tried to look in the direction the voice had come from, but both his eyes and muscles failed him. It wouldn't be long now.

"The ice melted. The flames rose, and the ice melted."

Another voice, behind him this time. He didn't understand.

"You were gone. You need to be gone again."

"_I can't," _he managed to choke out through gritted teeth.

"Then we'll make you."

This was it then. He braced, and to his surprise, he felt himself being lifted. By not one, but by many demons, holding him high into the air above them. They walked through what had now become a blizzard, headed, he supposed, to the place of his execution.

At the gates.

When they threw him out onto the frozen ground, they slammed the gates behind him. One by one, they turned and left. All except the chosen, a messenger, who looked upon him with disdain.

"Stay away from us, and we'll stay away from you. There is no throne here for you anymore, _King_. We will not let our home die with you. Do you understand?"

He nodded. For he did, _finally_, he did.

"Do we have a deal?"

_"Deal,"_ he croaked, the words daggers in his lungs.

He saw the demon flick something in the air, just as the darkness started to take him. The clink of something metal landed nearby. He reached out blindly until, with relief, he wrapped his fingers around the familiar surface that lay in his hand.

As he felt the coin begin to burn, he smiled.

He was going home.

He was going home to her.

The woman he couldn't live without.


End file.
